


A Dubious Gift

by herrDoktorat (rikkuni)



Series: Gaudy Killer Heels [1]
Category: Metroid Series
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen, Shorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikkuni/pseuds/herrDoktorat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samus takes forever to open a box. Reminiscing ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dubious Gift

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically groundwork for my future fics, but please enjoy!
> 
> Many thanks to Angevon for the title. :>

Ian Malkovich. I haven't spoken to him in years; to see his name on a package addressed to me is jarring, and the timing is odd as well. These days, I am rarely on Earth. Finding a dusty old box waiting for me with the groundskeeper would be one thing, but this was delivered just this morning, right after my return from a mission. Could there be a bomb inside? I examine the package—a small, battered steel crate—and sense no danger from it. I decide against going the extra mile and scanning it because this is one of the rare moments I am outside my Power Suit. I'd rather not waste it with paranoia, and besides, what fool would dare try that a second time?

Which leaves me the package. Ian is an old friend. We joined the Galactic Federation at roughly the same time, trained together and even served in the same platoon under his older brother, Adam—which earned him no privileges, mind... in fact, he almost died carrying out orders during a certain assignment. Ian was trying to repair a malfunctioning drive unit belonging to a civilian craft, but the thing was beyond saving; all he could do was delay the inevitable. Adam then had to make a tough call: if the unit remained attached to the craft any further, it would put three hundred civilians in danger; however, the life-support systems were linked to the vessel. Ian would not survive the detachment and our ship could not approach the drive unit for several reasons, one of them being its imminent explosion. One life bound by blood versus three hundred bound by duty. Adam chose the latter.

I took a third option.

I knew that arguing with him would only make the decision harder. I knew my idealism and naivete would shine through, making the right choice all the more obvious. Adam had his back turned to us the entire time, knowing he would be met by harsh words and frowning faces. I used this to my advantage and slipped away. I stole the first ship I could find and flew to the drive unit myself, rescuing Ian just as the fireworks started; no lives were lost.

I'd been known as an insubordinate soldier who broke ranks frequently since long before this incident, so naturally, my actions had me dishonorably discharged.

Adam had this to say to me, though:

"Samus, there are a great many things you may not have been able to accomplish as a soldier, but know that there are other paths for you to follow on your own."

I later realized it was entirely too easy to steal that ship.

Adam was my commanding officer. I respected his judgement, and he mine, but we were bound by rank and duty. Adam had not been wrong, but neither had I, and it may have been this understanding that saved his brother.

I left with no regrets, pushing forward and aiming for new heights, heights which my Chozo parents had thought possible from the start. I would work as a bounty hunter, though in reality my objective was to destroy not an individual but an entire race, the Space Pirates who had taken so much from me. Adam, in the meantime, continued to lead his team. Our paths would cross from time to time, and I would assist him to the best of my ability, as a partner rather than a subordinate. I would focus on the targets, he would focus on the mission. I believed that our efforts, aided by countless others, would slowly but surely bring peace to the galaxy.

Eventually, my work expanded from simple bounties to actual mercenary work. Adam was the first to contract my new services, and under the Galactic Federation banner, at that. I'd become respected and sought after while they weren't looking. I remember their doubts well, but they had exhausted their possibilities. Orbital strikes had failed and nearly the entire fleet lost. There was no way for them to send ground troops for open war and no commando unit skilled enough. Adam knew, though, that I operated differently from any soldier, that my ship would be able to penetrate their defenses, and so he forced the higher-ups to pin their hopes on the girl they had kicked out years earlier. I still chuckle whenever someone brings it up.

"This is an emergency order," he said. "Samus, eliminate all Metroid organisms on Planet Zebes and defeat the mechanical life form, Mother Brain."

I snap back to reality, to my apartment, to the package in my hands. Ian is the problem now. Adam is dead, though I've never made much effort to keep in contact with my old squadmates in the first place, even back when he was alive. Well, whatever it is that Ian has sent me, it is going to be awkward.

I pry open the lid and find a smaller box inside. There is something hastily scribbled on it...

> SLIPPERS FOR THE PRINCESS
> 
> -A

Anthony? I shake my head in disbelief. I was expecting something cheesy yet heartwarming, such as this one photo Adam kept on his desk. Ian was prone to these things, back at the academy. Anthony, well, he liked to up the ante whenever he could.

I take out the second box—worn-out cardboard held together by loads of duct tape. What is this thing? I am nearly overcome with curiosity, but it is with some trepidation that my hands reach for the tabs. I should have thrown the damn thing out the window, but after this much reminiscing, it would feel rather anticlimatic not to open it.

The insides are dissonant with the unkempt appearance of the box. One pair of cuboids and a large cylinder, both mechanical in appearance, are cushioned in appropriately shaped polyurethane foam inserts. I take out the cylinder first; it is hollow, and judging by the mechanism in the middle, can be split into... bracelets? Yes, definitely bracelets, though common sense stops me from trying them on—they could very well be magnetic shackles. What are the cuboids, then? I set the cylinder on a nearby table and take one of them for inspection.

Mm, weighs more than it ought to. There is a rather conspicuous button at the middle, surrounded by faint yellow details. I press it, even though my instincts tell me not to. Then, it begins: the yellow parts glow brightly as the cuboid first expands, then starts taking a different shape; the process is not unlike my Arm Cannon when switching beams.

Eventually, it becomes something entirely unexpected: pumps.

No, not the kind used to move liquids or slurries; a shoe, a mechanical shoe with high heels, but a shoe all the same. I raise it above eye level and notice there are vents on the soles. Rocket pumps? I consider taking a bounty on fashion, while going ahead and pressing the button on the second cuboid anyway.

What are rocket heels even good for? I've never been big on infiltration, but these things are far too gaudy for even that, and the glowing yellow parts would give away any attempts at stealth. Then again, that thing does not seem meant for contact with bare skin—the insoles are mechanical too. I'd have to be in my undersuit to even... oh, Anthony, you _ass_.

I sigh and reach for a tablet nearby. Reacting to my touch, it quickly lights up and displays schematics for my Power Suit, as well as related upgrades. Then, it requests a fingerprint scan. I comply.

I barely feel my hand and back growing warm anymore. I barely react to the slight electric impulses as the suit is once again linked to my nervous systems. I feel comfort, rather than reluctance, as the blue undersuit comes to cover my entire body. I have changed a great deal since my days at Zebes, but I almost wish it weren't so.

I look at the rocket pumps one last time. Well, no pain, no gain.

 

* * *

 

"Where is it?"

Misawa scratches his head, having been searching for hours already. Unfortunately, not even turning his room upside down was any help... he'd bought them years ago with his first salary, taken good care of them and always stored them safely, only to misplace them during the move to his new quarters? Ridiculous.

"Hey man, we gotta... _whoa_ , this place is a mess."

The familiar voice came from behind him. Misawa adjusts his glasses before looking. Anthony Higgs, of course. No one could forget that guy.

"I am searching for something," he says, barely masking his foul mood.

"Huh, must be important."

"Yes," he answers sharply, "and you are distracting me."

"Well, excuse me, princess!"

Anthony lets out a hearty laugh, but then his eyes widen and he quickly leaves the room, something so uncharacteristic that even Misawa notices. Though, he is not about to call him back and apologize... he has to find those jet boots, stat.


End file.
